“What?”
“Don’t pretend you’re innocent. Brock’s detective found out.”
Elle was silent on the other end of the call.
“And I’m still wondering if Gavin asked you to give me a makeover so I’d look better on his arm when he married me for money.” She was proud of her steady voice.
“He had nothing to do with it. I swear. I do agree that it’s a bit mercenary of him to take money from your father, but he’s a guy, you know?”
“Well, I don’t need one, then. I got along just fine without a man until now. And I’m getting rid of these damned green contact lenses, too.” She popped the left one from her eye and tossed it into the backseat. Uh-oh. The world was blurry—which seemed appropriate, but made driving dangerous.
She reached into the glove compartment and was relieved to find her familiar old pair of spare glasses. The second contact hit the floor and she pushed the thick frames up the bridge of her nose. “I think a lot of the improvements I’ve made in my life lately were anything but. And what were you thinking, getting involved with Brock Maddox? It’s bad enough that he’s your boss, but you’re spying on him, as well?”
“It’s complicated.” Elle’s voice was barely a whisper. “I wish I could explain, but—”
“Save it. I’ve got enough problems of my own.” She shoved a hand into her tangled curls. “The worst part is, I feel guilty.” She could hardly believe she wanted to share her feelings with Elle after all she now knew, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Why?”
“Because I’m ruining Gavin’s pretty little dream-come-true plan to open his own agency. My dad will take the money back and it will all fall apart.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about Gavin. He’ll land on his feet. These big shots always do.”
“You sound experienced in this area.”
“Trust me, I am. What are you going to do?”
“No idea.” And even if she did know, she wouldn’t tell Elle. Here she thought she’d found a new best friend—they’d had so much fun together—and she’d turned out to be even more of a dark horse than her husband.
Husband. What a concept.
“The first thing I’m going to do is have the marriage revoked or annulled or declared null and void—or whatever you do after a quickie wedding. I can’t be the first whirlwind bride in California to have woken up in the morning and wondered what hit her.”
“I still think you’re wrong to give up on Gavin.”
“Elle, a man marrying me for money is exactly what I’ve dreaded since I was a kid. It’s not something I can forgive.”
“I guess we all have our issues.”
“Too right.”
“Just don’t forget to leave the conditioner in your hair.” She could hear a hint of humor in Elle’s voice. “It makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”
“I admit it does. Has it made me happier?” She let out a snort of laughter. “I think I was better off frizzy. And on that note, I have an escape to make and two hungry cats to feed.”
She hung up the phone before Elle could protest and switched it off. Not that Gavin had called. He probably didn’t even care enough to come after her. He was probably out there trying to figure out how to save the money—since that’s all he really wanted in the first place. He was likely over at her old house right now, glad-handing her father and attempting to turn things around. Who knew? Maybe it would even work. She’d always mattered less than money to her own father, who made no secret of it.
Bree pushed a stray tear from her cheek and wiped a sudden fog off her glasses before she pulled back onto the freeway. At least up in Napa she’d be away from everything and everyone, and could figure out what to do next. Maybe she’d move right away from San Francisco. Everyone here would be laughing at her once word got out. It was bad enough before, being a dumpy heiress. But to be one who got tricked into marrying a gold digger…well, that was more than she could handle. Perhaps she’d just go live in the hills as a hermit.
Hermits could have cats, couldn’t they?
Gavin parked his car down the road from the Kincannon house. He could see lights on in the ground-floor windows, but the upper ones, where Bree had lived, were dark. Still, maybe she was downstairs, talking to her father.
He approached the carved front door of the mansion. His muscles burned with the urge to hold her. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t as bad as she thought, that he really cared about her and not the money.
The door opened with a creak, and he was oddly surprised to see Elliott Kincannon himself behind it, dressed in a dark smoking jacket, like the nineteenth-century aristocrats he obviously modeled himself on.
“Ah, Gavin.” He waved him inside. “How are things with Bree?”
So he didn’t know.
“Not so good, I’m afraid.” Gavin straightened his back. “She found out about our…arrangement.”
“Upset, was she?” Elliott Kincannon led him into the front hallway, over the black-and-white marble floor, past polished wood columns and gleaming oil portraits. “I’m sure she’ll recover.”
Gavin drew a deep breath. The old man’s uncaring attitude irked him. Then he grew angry with himself. Hadn’t he also assumed he’d quickly find her and talk her around? Now he couldn’t even find her. Panic surged inside him. “Is she here?”
“Here?” Elliott Kincannon swiveled on his heel and raised a brow. “Of course not. She lives with you now. I’d imagine she’s ensconced in your palace in the sky.”
Gavin frowned at the odd reference to his apartment. No doubt those who owned mansions looked down on those who didn’t—even if they knew them to be millionaires.
“We were having dinner at Iago’s, and then she told me she’d found out the truth and she took off. She was really upset.” Gavin shoved his hands into his pockets. He suddenly hated standing there talking, wasting time. Bree could be headed anywhere.
Kincannon’s stare hardened. “She waltzed out of Iago’s? I hope she didn’t make a scene.”
“She threw her rings at me.” Gavin took dark satisfaction in telling him this—Kincannon’s cold nonchalance was getting under his skin. “Then she stormed out of the restaurant.”
Bree’s father looked appalled. “People must have seen.”
“I’m sure they did.”
“Word could get out. The family name might be dragged into the press.”
Heaven forbid. How had Bree survived the first twenty-nine years of her life with this man?
“I hoped she’d be at the apartment, but she’s gone and so are the cats. I thought she might be here.”
“Well, she isn’t. And she’d be most unwelcome if she turned up here. A married woman belongs with her husband. You must find her immediately before a scandal starts.”
“I’m trying. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” A sense of urgency built in his chest. The thought of Bree, out there somewhere, upset and angry and hurting, grew inside him like a hot, uncomfortable flame. “Where does she usually go to get away?”
“Bree never goes anywhere.” Kincannon knocked back a tumbler of golden liquid. “Just sits up there with her cats or putters about doing her little charity jobs. That’s why I had to go out and hunt her down a husband myself. She was nearly thirty. People were talking.”
“Bree’s a very special woman.” Gavin bristled with indignation at this man’s dismissive attitude toward the woman he loved.
Yes, loved. There was no other word to describe the powerful surge of emotion rolling through him.
“Find her and smooth things over before the social pages get wind of this. I can just imagine the gossip if people think I paid to have my own daughter married off.”
“Even though you did.” Cold fury lashed inside Gavin. He felt like taking the million dollars and throwing it back in this man’s expressionless, hard face.
But now wasn’t the time for that. He had to find Bree before she got too
far away. With her unlimited means, she could get on a plane to anywhere in the world. And then how would he track her down?
“I’ll call you when I find her.” He turned and marched for the door.
“You’d better find her tonight. If I see any whiff of this in the papers tomorrow…”
“You’ll what?” Gavin turned and shot him a confrontational stare. This man was used to rolling over people and making them sweat—and to making his daughter feel inadequate and unworthy. “Bree’s the important person here. She’s upset, and justifiably so. It’s my fault, and I intend to put it right.”
If he could only find her.
But he couldn’t. She’d disappeared into the misty coastal air. Gavin phoned everyone he knew and quite a few people he didn’t. After four days, he was getting desperate.
His college friend Phil Darking was an editor at the local paper, and Gavin even went to see him, in case he’d heard anything on the gossip grapevine.
Phil had the gall to laugh. “Your wife’s done a runner and you’re calling the papers to ask where she is? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? What if I use you as the headline tomorrow? It’s a slow news day, you know.”
“I just want to find out where she is. I’ve talked to everyone in town. I’m really worried, Phil.”
“You think she’s going to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge?”
“No, she’s far too sensible for that.” Why did people think this was funny? “I love her, Phil. She doesn’t know that and I need to tell her.”
“You married her without telling her you love her?”
“Of course I told her, but now she doesn’t believe me. She thinks I married her for her money.”
“Which would be quite understandable. Do you know just how rich those Kincannons are?”
“I don’t care how rich they are. I don’t care about anything except getting her back. I don’t even care about the damn agency I’ve spent five years planning. I’d scrap the whole thing just to have her here right now, and I’m not kidding.”
The realization shocked him. Five years of dreaming and scheming meant nothing compared to the prospect of spending his life without Bree. She’d been gone four long, agonizing days. Four mornings without her smile. Four evenings without her kisses. Four nights without her arms around him. He couldn’t take much more of it.
“You’ve got it bad.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve hired a private detective, I’ve called anyone I even think might know her, and gone to visit all of her relatives. I’ve been haunting all her favorite places in the city, but she’s just disappeared. No one has even the slightest idea where she is.” He blew out hard and looked up at his friend. “I’ll do anything to get her back, Phil.”
“Anything?” Phil’s voice had a funny edge to it.
“Anything.”
“I LOVE YOU. COME BACK TO ME.”
The bold black print splashed across the front page of the San Francisco Examiner on newsstands all over the city. Gavin felt equal measures of embarrassment and excitement as he strode along a crowded street. The air hummed with the zing-zing of a passing cable car and his chest filled with hope. He’d already received a phone call from a popular local TV show, wanting him to come on and tell his story. Much to his surprise, he’d readily accepted.
He’d done the interview that morning. “Yes, I’m afraid I did accept money from my wife’s father. I saw it as an investment in my new business.” He’d cleared his throat and glanced down at the microphone pinned to his tie. Hot lights had brought out pinpoints of sweat on his brow, and the three cameras pointing right at him hadn’t helped much, either.
“Yet you didn’t tell your wife anything about it.” The heavily starched blonde leaned in until her mascara-clad lashes were almost brushing his cheek.
“No, I never told her. And that’s what makes the whole thing wrong. She’s my wife and we should confide in each other about everything.”
“And she was hurt when she found out.”
“She was devastated.” Gavin’s voice thickened. “After she learned about the money, she decided I only married her for the cash, and that I didn’t care about her.”
“Is that true?”
Gavin stiffened his shoulders and reminded himself it was a leading question, not an accusation. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I love Bree. She captivated me from the first moment I met her. She’s a lovely, talented, sweet, brilliant and funny woman, and I want to share the rest of my life with her.”
“Spoken like a man in love.” The gruff voice of the male cohost drew Gavin’s attention to the side. “And is it true that you’ve given the money back?”
“Yes. Every penny of it.” Pride swelled in his chest. He’d arranged the reverse transfer the previous afternoon. He’d had to throw in a big chunk of his personal savings to cover the money he’d already spent on the new agency. He’d also sent a personal note to Elliott Kincannon, apologizing for his role in the scheme and for any subsequent publicity. Frankly, though, he felt the old man deserved any wind that blew up his well-tailored coattails.
“I’m hardworking and ambitious enough to support Bree without any extra help. I know that now. Whether I can still make a go of my own agency, or whether I go to work for someone else, I’ll continue to do my best work for my clients. Since I’ve met Bree, I’ve changed my perspective on everything. Work is still important to me, but I’ve discovered the joys of companionship. I’d never been so happy in my life, as I was during these last few weeks with Bree. I miss her more than I can describe.”
“Aw.” The female host had patted his leg. “Aren’t you adorable? I’d marry you myself if you weren’t already hitched to this lucky girl.” She’d turned to one of the three large cameras pointing right at them. “Bree, do come back to him, won’t you?”
But she hadn’t.
Bree’s muscles ached slightly every morning since she’d arrived in Napa. Maybe because she spent much of the day walking in the hills, trying to keep moving and keep her mind off a certain scheming and duplicitous man.
Faith rolled and stretched on the sheets next to her. “Morning, baby.” She stroked the cat’s soft fur. Sun shone through the delicate blinds on the window and illuminated the pale yellow walls of the pretty bedroom. She hadn’t been here in years, though of course it was maintained in her absence like the other properties in the estate. Her mom used to love it here in the summers when she was little, and they often came to watch the grape harvest. As far as she could remember, her dad had never been here, not even once. It was one of more than thirty properties on the family rosters, and he was probably barely aware of its existence. That made it a great place to hide out.
But despite the glorious weather, the lovely surroundings and all the peace and quiet anyone could wish for, she still felt rotten.
And it was all Gavin Spencer’s fault.
She heard a noise in the other room. A flopping sound.
She eased out of bed and went to investigate. Something lay on the doormat just inside the kitchen door. Mail? She hadn’t told anyone she was coming here. Well, except Elle, but she’d hardly be sending letters. Perhaps people had noticed someone was living here and started to include her on the local “all residents” mailing lists.
It was a plastic envelope from a popular courier service. She ripped it open to find a folded tabloid newspaper. Affixed to the front was a sticky note that simply said, “And turn on the local TV news.”
Bree frowned. She pulled the sticky note off the front of the paper and squinted at the large headline. “I LOVE YOU. COME BACK TO ME.”
Her stomach clenched and something painful and bright opened inside her.
Ten
Don’t get carried away. Bree scolded herself as the blurry black-and-white words danced in front of her eyes. It’s not like it’s Gavin talking to you. Ridiculous that she should even make a mental connection.
Still, something prickled through her�
�hope, or fear—as she turned back into the cottage and looked around for her glasses. When she found them on the bedside table, her hands trembled as she picked them up.
She pushed her glasses up her nose and scanned the page. Her jaw dropped as she read on.
“San Francisco is abuzz with the mysterious disappearance of newlywed heiress Bree Kincannon.”
She gasped. Disappearance? That made it sound as if something suspicious had happened to her. Was Gavin in trouble?
“She hasn’t been seen since last Thursday, when she took off after telling her new husband she’d found out he’d been paid to marry her.”
A claw of panic gripped her. How did they know?
“Apparently Bree’s father was so keen to marry his daughter off to a suitable husband, he paid the young executive one million dollars to take her off his hands.” She cringed. It was bad enough to have such a terrible thing happen, but to have the whole world know…
Tears sprang to her eyes. Who would be cruel enough to show this to her?
She remembered the sticky note urging her to turn on the TV news. Some hidden core of self-preservation told her not to. Did she really want to see herself mocked and gaped at on TV, as well?
She glanced back at the paper. “Since her sudden departure, Bree’s husband, Gavin, has been distraught.” Bree tugged the paper closer. “Desperate to find his new wife, he approached the papers himself, asking for help.”
Bree’s mouth fell open. Then it snapped shut. Of course he was. He didn’t want to lose the million bucks, so he needed to hunt her down and talk her round before Daddy Warbucks snatched the cash back.
She let out a long, loud sigh and threw the paper down. Even the bold headline, “I LOVE YOU. COME BACK TO ME,” read entirely differently in light of the large sum of money involved. One million dollars was worth a little public embarrassment to most people, and obviously Gavin was no different.
Her dad must be hitting the ceiling. He hated publicity. He adhered to the old credo that a man’s name should appear in the papers three times during his life—his birth announcement, his wedding announcement and his obituary. Oh, and maybe the occasional impressive business merger. Certainly not a tacky headline about how he paid someone to marry his dumpy daughter.
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